


A Bold New World

by kettish



Series: A Bold New World [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Sub!Dwalin, dom!bilbo, sub!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5580463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and Thorin were keeping something from him, but he wasn't sure what. When they finally shared, he also understood why they had; to have their King kneeling at his lover's feet was tantamount to having the kingdom at his disposal, and would have sat ill with dwarrow of the mountain. </p><p>Dwalin, on the other hand, can definitely see the advantages to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a while since Dwalin had been nervous about his place in their relationship, but damn if Bilbo wasn't making him feel that way again today.

‘The hobbit under the mountain,’ the invitation was addressed from, like Dwalin was receiving formal invitations for tea from anyone else in the fucking kingdom. And he'd recognize that looping, dotted handwriting anywhere, so different as it was from most dwarrows’ when they wrote Westron. A holdover from Cirth, dwarrow tended to write in bold block letters, and often in all one case, not bothering with Westron capitalization unless necessary . 

Not the Dwalin would have articulated all that, as much as he noticed it. Nonetheless, he knew it was from Bilbo, and Thorin by extension.

‘The Hobbit under the Mountain requests your presence at third bell, if convenient, for tea.

A light meal will be served in the Kings Rooms.

We look forward to seeing you.’

Dwalin frowned down at the paper in his fingers , a little unsettled by it. Ever since Bilbo and Thorin had opened their bed to him, it had been casual, comfortable, and intimate. He had always just sort of...showed up, after a smoldering look from Thorin or an impetuously copped feel by the burglar. Those times had been fewer and farther between lately, but he'd thought they'd just been busy. 

It had been the best luck he'd ever fallen into, after decades of pining after Thorin, and months of growing admiration for Bilbo on their Quest. Dwalin still couldn't believe he was allowed to do the things he did, like stroke Bilbo’s back as they sat by the fire, or curl up by Thorin at night, or fuck or be fucked by them both. (Though not at once. That kind of gluttony belonged to His Majesty.)

...What if they'd grown tired of him, though. 

Surely their relationship was solid, but now that Thorin was properly King, maybe they needed to stop their dalliance? Had someone on the council complained? Dwalin knew he was hardly lifebond material, but really, he wasn't too bad to be a side bit, even, was he?

Scarred, rough, with less diplomatic training than necessary to be a personal guard for a king. Maybe for the princes. Dwalin knew he'd need replacing as captain of the guard sooner or later, but as that had less formal interactions with visiting diplomats and guests he had a good few more years in him for that. Ered Luin was no Erebor, and he'd had to make do with a far less secure location for his king and the line of Durin-Erebor was so much easier in that respect that it was laughable.

No, he was fine in his position, he reasoned. But now he was avoiding thinking about the issue at hand.

Or non-issue. Sometimes Dwalin wasn't sure if he was worrying over something legitimate or if he was just falling prey to the Durin predilection for brooding.

Either way, the time for thinking had ended. He was standing in front of the King’s door, nodding to Forl and Mir as he knocked.

"Come in," Bilbo called, and as he stepped in said "shut the door behind you please!"

Dwalin entered, and as was his habit, looked around the room to note his beloveds’ locations. Thorin was seated on a large cushion meant for reclining by the fire, which was not unusual, but his loose posture and simple attire definitely was. Dwalin didn't think he'd seen him in anything unembroidered with gold or silver thread since he'd been crowned, much less without rings, chains, earrings or ear cuffs. Hell, he'd gone ahead and gotten further pierced then, and the newest two, his left nipple and tragus, were still healing.

Looking more closely, actually, the newest piercings still had a piece in, but they were so simple as to be degrading for someone of his station, a cheap, tiny ring of clean steel that had no decoration other than the ball keeping the thing in and a similar bar for his chest. Dwalin frowned, puzzled.

Thorin looked back at him steadily, as though trying to communicate with his eyes alone, and said not a word. Dwalin was unnerved to find he couldn't tell what he was trying to say.

“You're just in time, Dwalin, the food is about ready!” Bilbo interrupted cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the cheek that still made Dwalin blush. Bilbo’s easy affection never failed to make him feel special, loved. 

“Come along, Thorin,” he continued, and patted his leg as one would a dog or child. To his consternation, Thorin fucking nodded and silently stood and followed, eyes cast down.

“Wait,” Dwalin said to an empty room, “what.” Something was up. Thorin never just nodded and obeyed. It wasn't in him. He was born and raised for leading, not servitude.

He stamped after them, hastily unslinging his axes in the entryway where Bilbo always insisted they stay, doffing his boots, which was also Bilbo’s doing, and quickly as he could followed his lovers to the dining room.

Bilbo had laid an excellent spread with a haunch of venison, mashed potatoes, gravy, some sort of assortment of baked vegetables that were roasted well enough for dwarrow to enjoy (regardless of their origin, Dwalin appreciated a little char to that food), and a few tankards of ale. Dwalin eyed it all with unconcealed appreciation as Bilbo fussed with the little things that they didnt need but that Dwalin secretly liked. Bilbo always made it so neat, amd orderly, and while Dwalin and Thorin had made do with “good enough” so long as to be used to it, “fantastic” was certainly welcome.

“Go on, go on, sit down!” Bilbo shooed him happily to his usual place. Dwalin sat, but then looked at the only other plate on the table and frowned.

“Thorin has work late again, then?” he rumbled gruffly, disappointed. He fiddled with his fork a bit, trying to get it back just so as itd been initially laid.

Bilbo paused, then sat down, clearing his throat a bit. 

“Well. No,” he said after a moment. “Thorin and I are, um. We’re trying something a bit new. Just, just watch a bit before you decide anything. Him. Watch him.”

Dwalin's eyebrows had risen steadily though his speech, and lowered, knitting together at the end. 

“Hes-well, he likes it. And I like it. And its a bit, ah, unusual for you dwarrow I think, and for hobbits too, but not unheard of to us, not like us three being together in the first place.” He paused and drew a deep breath, then spoke more confidently than before. “So. No speaking to him for a few minutes please after I call him in. Let us all get settled first, hm? Thorin! Come here.”

And again, to Dwalin's  
utter astonishment, Thorin just obeyed, walking over to Bilbo and standing just behind and beside him. Bilbo huffed, frowning.

“Down, Thorin. You know where I want you while I eat,” he chided firmly, and after a moment, Thorin sank to his knees stiffly beside Bilbo. “Good, Thorin. Thank you.

“Dwalin,” he continued without missing a beat, “potatoes?” 

Dumbfounded, Dwalin nodded, eyes riveted to the top of Thorin's head where he could see it over the edge of the table. He held out his plate mechanically and Bilbo spooned some (undoubtedly delicious) potatoes onto it, making an indentation with the back of the serving spoon and then ladling gravy into it. Thorin stayed on the floor, head straight, and still just the top of his head showing. Bilbo gracefully loaded food onto Dwalin's plate, and Dwalin answered without thinking, mind whirling with this unprecedented game.

Thorin. Obeying, like a servant. No, Dwalin corrected himself as he saw Thorin finally move, slowly lowering his head sideways a bit. Bilbo had finished getting his own plate and had begun chatting with Dwalin about how his day went, informing him of goings-on with the Company and newly arrived vendors and subjects. Thorin must have put his head against Bilbo, for the hobbit stopped speaking a moment and smiled beautifully down at the king before putting a hand on his head and petting him, then took up talking again.

Thorin was behaving like a beloved slave. A pet. Dwalin didn't know what to think-this was forbidden. Thorin could lose his throne over this.

“You should see his face,” Bilbo suddenly said. “He’s almost asleep here, just letting himself be pet and sitting at my side. Here-Thorin, go sit by Dwalin a bit.” Dwalin's eyes went round as tea cup saucers as Thorin visibly flinched, then burrowed against Bilbo a little more in denial.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said sharply, “Go sit by Dwalin, or I'll have to get the cuffs.” Thorin hunched down a little, then huffed and stood, rounding the table and sitting perhaps a little forcefully down by Dwalin’s seat. 

“Why isnt he saying anything?” Dwalin asked awkwardly after a moment of staring at the back of Thorin's head.

“You may let him speak if you like. Thorin, if Dwalin speaks to you, you may reply,” he directed. Thorin nodded, peeking over the table to make eye contact as he did so, and again Bilbo smiled warmly. 

“Good. Dwalin, please eat! The venison is nowhere near as good cold, the crust goes a bit soggy. Tell me, how was your day?” Dwalin, desperate not to think about the blue eyes watching him carefully from the floor beside him, jumped on the chance and started telling Bilbo and Thorin about his rounds in the marketplace and finding a vendor who had been cutting his flour with chalk dust to weight it heavier. 

Thorin glowered, and almost without thinking Dwalin put his hand on his head to soothe him. Thorin flinched before melting in relief, sliding down to put his cheek against Dwalin's leg, and as his king’s eyes fluttered half-shut with a stifled sigh, Dwalin got it.

“Ah,” he said softly, and across the table Bilbo grinned.

 

It was some time later that Dwalin began to relax-after his revelation, he could actually enjoy the food put before him and indulge in his ale. He continued petting Thorin’s hair as he dozed against him, and Dwalin couldn't remember a time he'd seen him more relaxed. 

It was soothing, running his rough hands gently over that precious head, and he thought that the shape of his best friend and king and then lover’s skull was something his fingers had always known. He brushed against Thorin’s ear occasionally and grinned when he jumped, then soothed him down again with just the right amount of gentle tugging and petting. And all the while he and Bilbo talked, trading gossip about what vendors would be selling best at the upcoming summer solstice festival and which newly adult dwarrow would be making their debut at the craft tables. 

“D’you think Ori will finally present his thesis?” Dwalin asked idly, and was a bit startled when Thorin shifted and spoke up, rumbling “no, my lord” before pressing back against his thigh. 

“Dwalin wasn't talking to you, Thorin, be quiet,” Bilbo commented lazily from his chair, having demolished his plate. “Come here, you're falling asleep sitting there and still need to eat.” Thorin snapped awake, looking wide-eyed at dwalin for a moment before bowing and rolling to his feet to go back to Bilbo.

“You can speak now, thank you,” Bilbo said as Thorin stood by him, “go fetch the ottoman, I don't feel like leaning over.”

“Yes, my lord,” Thorin rumbled, and ducked back to the living room for the seat. Dwalin laughed.

“My lord?” he asked, teasing. Bilbo flapped a hand at him.

“Shush, you. Nobody says ‘sir’ here like in the Shire, and I wasn't about to let him call me king. So, ‘my lord.’” 

Dwalin chuckled as thorin hefted in a plush ottoman, a short stool on which the Hobbits and Men set their feet as they reclined in thickly padded chairs. Dwarrow were more inclined to pad large amounts of the floor with thick pelts and cushions to create lounging areas for socializing or sleeping, generally around a warm brazier, but Thorin and Dwalin had helped make parts of the royal apartments to Bilbo’s tastes. They still had a large area covered in thick warg pelts, and topped with luxuriously soft sheared river-rodent furs, but that was in another room. This dining room and the front study were more for Bilbo.

Thorin set the ottoman down gently next to Bilbo, and then seated himself atop it, feet tucked under himself like a servant. Bilbo made a reprimanding noise and he rearranged to sit cross-legged.

“Better!” Bilbo praised. “Now, lets see.” Thorin glanced at Dwalin as bilbo loaded a plate for him, and then looked back at Bilbo just as Bilbo set a scoop of some tiny green tree-looking bastards onto his plate. Thorin's eyes met Dwalin's again as thorin wrinkled his nose and Dwalin chuckled.

“Open,” Bilbo commanded, and Thorin's attention was back on their hobbit, obediently opening his mouth for the bite of food Bilbo popped in. He chewed, eyes closing blissfully at the taste of the beautifully cooked meat, and swallowed before opening his mouth again at Bilbo’s expectant gesture.

“Only way I can get him to eat without working,” Bilbo confided as the tidbits were offered and consumed. Dwalin outright laughed, and Thorin scowled a moment, still chewing. Then, a flash of mirth gleamed in his eyes, and this time, when Bilbo finger fed him a piece of a roll, he very carefully took Bilbo’s fingertips between his teeth and licked the crumbs off before releasing them. Bilbo exhaled audibly before recovering himself and sniffing.

“Don't get all bratty with me,” Bilbo warned, eyes narrowing. 

Thorin, the picture of innocence, blinked up at him before slowly rumbling “Yes, my lord,” deep in his chest, and Dwalin felt the tension in the room thicken at the same pace the back of Bilbo's neck flushed. Bilbo stared at him a moment, calculating, before setting the mostly emptied plate aside.

“Go get the brazier warmed, Dwalin and I will be along,” he ordered. Thorin stood, bowed, and went.

“He's going to act out a bit for you, I think,” Bilbo said into the sudden silence. “He was terribly worried about sharing this with you, but wanted to try. Now you haven't run screaming I think he's feeling a bit playful.

“Always was a brat,” Dwalin grunted, recalling tiny Thorin pouting when he wasn't first place in a contest or in someone's affections. “He seemed well behaved though.”

“He's not to try and start anything while we're eating,” Bilbo informed. “He barely eats enough as it is, I won't have him throwing it off for a quickie. Especially when there’s no need.”

No need. Dwalin must have missed something. So far Bilbo had just doted on Thorin like a pet or spoiled child. Mind, the way Thorin's eyes had slid shut had been like how they did when Dwalin or Bilbo first slid home in him...relaxed, and pleased, and trusting. Ah.

“What are you doing to him, then?” Dwalin asked curiously. Surely, with him at their disposal, they could do anything they liked. But what would Thorin like? Dwalin knew he liked being fucked rough, and pleasure given and received by mouth and hand and even, on a few occasions, by the space between his lovers’ thighs. But none of that seemed to fit the feeling Thorin and Bilbo had begun building at the beginning of the evening.

“Mostly whatever I like, but that'd be because I love hearing the sounds he can make when tied down and forced to relax and enjoy himself,” Bilbo replied with a wicked grin blooming on his face and a hungry gleam in his eyes. “Everything, Dwalin. I want to do everything with him.”

“You're welcome to join us, Dwalin, as always.” Turning, he strolled cheerily past the table and into the lounge area, and over the rushing of all his blood heading as fast as possible directly to his dick, Dwalin heard him tell Thorin to fetch something from their bedroom.

 

It took Dwalin a few minutes to get his brain working again. By the time he got it in gear and walked (not ran, nope, that chair fell on itself, Dwalin blames shoddy Shire workmanship) to the lounge area, Thorin was back and sitting alert, shirtless, near the brazier. Near him lay a coil of soft rope, the pot of oil based salve they usually used to ease penetration, and a few of Thorin's favorite toys. Bilbo reclined on a pile of furs, relaxed and self assured, but Dwalin didn't miss the relief in either of their eyes when he tripped in.

“I'm in,” Dwalin proclaimed. “Where do I start?”

“Shirt off, please,” Bilbo replied, grin threatening to overtake his whole face. “And then come here, so we can discuss.” 

Dwalin had never shed a shirt so quickly in his life, and was soon dropping onto the furs to sit next to Bilbo. He put his back to Thorin, wanting to keep some suspense up for him, and leaned in close to Bilbo.

“I've never done anythin’ quite like this,” he rumbled quietly. “Did you have a plan?”

“Naturally,” Bilbo affirmed, “but it's a bit fluid, as we weren't sure how you'd react. We were ready to put this all aside and enjoy a normal evening, and we still can. We can do like I said, in the dining room. Or if you have ideas, we can talk with Thorin about it and try it another evening-he's already pretty relaxed, I'd be worried he'd agree to something he'd regret right now.”

Dwalin grunted, agreeing, and turned to consider Thorin. His King. His beloved. The most powerful dwarf he'd ever known, and usually so strong, striving for greatness, working hard for everyone else in his mountain. He skipped meals, missed sleep, neglected his health. Dwalin reflected that he'd threatened once to tie him down and make him eat, and that decided him.

“Let's go with your plan,” Dwalin murmured with a nod, turning back. Bilbo shot him an approving look, and Dwalin tried to ignore the warmth that gathered in his stomach from it.

“Thorin,” Bilbo called lazily, sinking back into that commanding air he'd had before, “Come here and kiss me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Yes, my lord!” Thorin replied, sounding pleased and excited, and scrambled to obey. He slid over on hands and knees to Bilbo and sunk down into kissing him. Bilbo brought a hand up to tug a fistful of his hair, bound back loosely, and Thorin moaned. Dwalin watched hungrily and leaned forward to run a rough hand up Thorin's back.

 

“Dwalin now,” Bilbo ordered dazedly a few kisses later, gently pushing Thorin over to him. Dwalin finally, finally claimed his lips, and was lost for long minutes in the taste of his mouth, the slick of his tongue, the way he melted into his arms, and the always delicious sensation of solid-but-padded muscle beneath his hands. Thorin had almost been corded with muscle, but Dwalin knew it was due to malnourishment, and rejoiced to feel the evidence that his oldest friend was finally having his most basic needs met.

 

Aye, and Dwalin was proud to help fill those needs. He ran rough hands over Thorin's hair, then caught some in his fist and gently turned his head up and away so he could mouth the tendon of his neck. Thorin groaned heartily, going more limp, and Dwalin's mind raced at what he wanted to do for him. 

 

A small hand ran up Thorin's back to meet Dwalin's arm, then soothed up the muscles and tattooed skin. Dwalin felt more than saw Bilbo step up behind Thorin, going gracefully to his knees behind his sprawled lovers. The softness of those smaller, more delicate palms was delicious against his overheated skin. More welcome still was how he pulled at Thorin’s laces, tugging his linen britches down and helping Thorin shuffle out of them without stopping what he was doing. Dwalin really appreciated that.

 

And then Bilbo reached past Thorin's hips and went for Dwalin's belt buckle, working to eventually get his pants off as well. It was considerably less graceful than Thorin, but that was per usual. No sooner did Bilbo have them off than Thorin began grinding his hips down to meet Dwalin's cock, and both groaned loudly at the friction.

 

There was a sudden thwap, and Thorin startled like a colt.

 

“Getting ahead of yourself, Thorin,” Bilbo reprimanded. Thorin flushed all the way down to his chest and then extricated himself from Dwalin gently, kneeling back to sit on his feet, erection  evident through his underclothing. Dwalin looked lost, confused as to why the fun had stopped, 

 

“Apologies, my lord,” he said, and Bilbo reached over to cup his face gently.

 

“Don't fret darling,” he soothed. “Now. Dwalin, lay back on this larger cushions. And Thorin, go use your mouth on him. Gently. Don't make him come yet.” Dwalin's and Thorin's eyes lit up and Dwalin threw himself across the floor to splay out against the specified cushions. Bilbo rolled his eyes and Thorin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, before gracefully moving to him.

 

Dwalin watched with short breaths as Thorin slunk over and mouthed at his dick through the soft cotton of his underclothes. His lover and king peeked up at him through his lashes as he gently puffed warm air through the fabric. Dwalin remembered Bilbo had more planned and tried valiantly not to come immediately in his pants-service made Thorin look so comfortable, so confident. He'd always done best when given a task, Dwalin supposed, and sweet Mahalo he was doing his best now 

 

“You're doing so well,” Bilbo leaned down to murmur sweetly in Thorin's ears. Dwalin felt Thorin shudder against his thighs and felt his hips buck down involuntarily against his own, and heard a light thwap again as Bilbo gently smacked Thorin's ass. “None of that yet sweetheart. Wait until I say, it'll be worth it.” Thorin nodded best as he could, eyes squeezing shut a moment before he returned to his task with vigor.

 

“Dwalin, get his underthings off,” Bilbo directed. Relieved at being given a task, Dwalin sat up as Thorin tried to continue and struggled to push Thorin's skivvies down, failing and finally resorting to hooking his big toes into the band and shoving them off with a triumphant “ha!” Bilbo and Thorin both laughed, Thorin popping off Dwalin's dick in surprise and mirth, and Dwalin grinned, enjoying the look on both their faces.

 

“My dwarrow,” Bilbo said affectionately. “I do love you both. Thorin, let's get back to what we decided! Dwalin, come here and kiss me please, I've not yet had the pleasure of your lips and that is a tragedy.”

 

Dwalin descended on him as Bilbo snapped imperiously and held out his hand. Dwalin barely noticed Thorin holding out the little pot of salve, but was definitely distracted from kissing Bilbo when, at a gesture, Thorin turned and presented his ass for Bilbo to finger slowly. 

 

“What are you-” Dwalin began before realizing Bilbo was opening Thorin up as he kissed Dwalin. “Oh Mahal. Oh sweet maker.” Bilbo cleared his throat as Dwalin's mind boggled, then again, impatient.

 

“if you won't kiss me, you can use your tongue elsewhere,” Bilbo ordered crossly. “Lick around my fingers, Dwalin.” Dwalin's mind blanked for a moment in sheer arousal and his hips twitched forward before he knelt down and began to lick. His eyes slid shut at the taste of the salve and the savory, slightly musky scent of Thorin, and eased open again to see Bilbo staring, mesmerized, rubbing his erection slowly with the heel of his free  hand through his trousers.

 

“Gods you two are beautiful together,” Bilbo murmured, and Thorin shuddered again. “I want you like this all the time. Every time there's a free moment. Naked, and obeying me, and doing all the things you both like best, and damn the rest of the world.”

 

Dwalin groaned, heavy and long, lipping at Thorin's rim as he did in an attempt to continue obeying, and Bilbo's breath came out rougher. A third small finger joined the first two in Thorin's  ass and massaged gently in and out.

 

“Always like this,” Bilbo continued. “Always. Thorin, what do you think? Should I tie you down to the floor after I've stretched you out, should I let Dwalin fuck you? Then keep you tied down until he's ready to go again?” 

 

Thorin groaned  long and low, rumbling “yes, please, yes my lord,” repeatedly as Dwalin licked along and into his ass and Bilbo added another finger. (He always did-dwarven dicks were thick and hobbit fingers small.)

 

“Thats enough Dwalin. Pants off, into bed with you both.” Again they both scrambled to obey, and Dwalin realized in passing that he was doing the same things as Thorin now. But he couldn't help himself-Bilbo was taking care of them, expecting to be obeyed, and Dwalin trusted him to orchestrate this and make sure everyone was cared for. There was a great sense of relief and calm in obeying, the same as when his parents had once told to close his eyes and wait for his birthday present. The anticipation and calm were the same, and Dwalin felt like it was almost rest.

 

“Thorin, all fours,” Bilbo continued, pushing and  pulling them into position, “and Dwalin, hm. Hm, hm.” They both perked up, looking at him, practically at attention. Dwalin had picked up on Thorin's silence on instinct almost, looking at their master expectantly. 

 

“Dwalin, dearest,” he said, “lay out in front of Thorin. You may touch Thorin if you like, but he's not allowed to get off just yet. Thorin, you may touch Dwalin, but only lightly, and not on his cock.” Dwalin took to his instructions with a will, running his hands over Thorin's hair, his cheeks, his gorgeous shoulders and his neck. Thorin shivered at the touch to his throat, stretching his chin out further so Dwalin could reach more, and Dwalin couldn't help but do it again, marveling at how perfectly beautiful he'd look with something there. A collar perhaps. Anything to remind him throughout the day of who loves him,who owns him, and oh goodness that thought was terribly appealing for himself as well, wasn't it.

 

A very light smack hit his buttocks, jolting him out of his train of thought, and he found his fingers combing Thorin's  pubic hairs.

  
  


“I said no, Dwalin,” Bilbo said lightly, and Dwalin jerked his hand back.

 

“Sorry, uh...my lord,” he mumbled quickly, darting his eyes up to meet Bilbo’s. The warmth and love there reassured him, and the consuming lust he saw encouraged him.

 

The moment stretched, all three players in this game finally slotted into their chosen places, and then Bilbo broke it with brusque instructions.

 

“Dwalin, come here, on your knees where I am. Thorin, stay.” Oh yes, Dwalin made the right choice, yes. Thorin's mouth was a revelation but his ass was goddamn heaven itself and Dwalin had already had a taste. He and Bilbo shuffled around to switch and he found himself petting Thorin's round buttocks, admiring the newer padding as well as the hard muscle underneath. Bilbo was doing the same at his head, smoothing his hair away from sweat-beaded forehead and looking deeply into his eyes. Dwalin watched as Bilbo smoothed a thumb over Thorin's cheekbone, gently, lovingly, and for a minute he was jealous again, an outsider looking in on a beautiful thing he could not be a part of.

 

And then Bilbo turned Thorin's head, gently, and thorin reared up slightly to catch at Dwalin's hand while Bilbo  reached for dwalin as well, and for a moment all he processed was the warm rough feel of Thorin's hands against his side and Bilbo's  small, cooler fingers brushing against his neck and the vein pumping lifeblood inside. His breath caught and tears burned in his eyes as they continued to touch him, and for the first time in a ling time he understood. This wasn't something they'd share with just anyone. They were serious. He was wanted here, him, not just a third partner. 

 

Bilbo's hand skipped back down his neck and chest to his hip, and pulled him close to thorin in silent suggestion. Dwalin pressed his hands against Thorin’s ass and Bilbo's hands silently, thanking them, before reaching down to direct his cock to Thorin's entrance before tilting his hips forward and entering him.

 

Fucking Thorin was like coming home. Everything was perfect and exactly how he wanted it and the people there were  awesome. He slid  in and out a few times, bottoming out finally as Thorin moaned appreciatively and Bilbo watched, fisting himself. Once Dwalin was seated he looked to Bilbo for approval, who smiled broadly and then looked down to thorin.

 

“Would you like something in your mouth  too, love?” he asked their king, and Thorin nodded energetically. “Open up then, I'll let you suck me for a little while before we switch things up.”

 

Thorin engulfed his cock in one move, the difference in their species always more evident during sex.

 

“Move, Dwalin,” Bilbo ordered. “And what do you say?”

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Thorin mumbled around a mouthful of cock, and Dwalin echoed him. Bilbo's hips hitched forward once before Bilbo got himself back under control with a grunt.

 

“If you two only knew,” he groaned. “The sight of you together. Valar above, if I were younger we'd never make it past step one before I'd pop off in my pants!”

 

“Dwalin, keep a slow pace. Thorin-show me what you want,” he growled. Dwalin watched, moving slow and steady in and out, while Thorin leaned forward, trembling, to rub his face over Bilbo's dick, mouthing at the shaft, lipping at his sack, whining and shaking as moments went by. Bilbo moved his dick to smear along his cheek and lips, listening to Thorin's breathy whines when he moved it back out of his reach before pressing it back against his face again. Dwalin continued slow but started trying to time his thrusts to coincide with Thorin reaching for Bilbo, and to his vast amusement (and ok, a bit of triumph) Thorin finally managed to swipe his tongue across the head of his dick.

 

Bilbo laughed then and finally caved, feeding his cock into Thorin's mouth carefully, feeling along his cheek and jaw as they worked. Dwalin leaned to the side a bit, trying to see, and Thorin groaned loudly as apparently that caused him to nail his prostate dead-on. Dwalin couldn't see his mouth working over Bilbo's dick but he could see that Thorin's own erection was bobbing stiff and wet underneath him, leaking steadily as Dwalin fucked him, begging to be tasted. He ran broad, weapon-roughened hands over Thorin's back, going carefully over the still-sensitive scars and running down to tease his rim as Dwalin's cock pulled in and out.

 

“Please, Bilbo,” Thorin finally pulled off to say, a hand coming up to pump him as though he couldn't bear to leave his task completely unfulfilled. “Please, I need to cum, soon, please let me, please!” 

 

Bilbo put a hand to his hair soothingly and then pulled him back to his dick again unrelentingly.

 

“After Dwalin comes, you may come,” Bilbo finally replied, with the air of one granting a tremendous favor. Thorin groaned loudly and began shoving his hips back at Dwalin, who swore and tried keeping up at Bilbo's nod.

 

There was the slap of Dwalin's hip against Thorin's ass, and the wet sounds coming from Thorin's mouth, and the knowledge that he could be done whenever he liked and nobody would complain or make little comments if he came first (not that they ever did, but now he had permission, a command) and when Bilbo looked at him straight in the eyes over Thorin's head, both of them fucking their king like a common Mahal-damned whore, Dwalin was done. He doubled over, pressing his hips tightly to Thorin's as his orgasm overwhelmed him, and before he'd come back down felt Thorin's orgasm hit him as well. Thorin's back arched out as his hips hitched forward and his body dragged him down off of Bilbo, and spurts of semen hit the furs below.

 

Bilbo pushed them both over gently to lay on the bed, pumping himself furiously, panting with the wildest look in his eyes Dwalin had ever seen. He came over them, marking them as his own, unmistakable and arousing enough to trigger a second set of shudders from Thorin. 

 

He stayed a moment on his knees before them, triumphant, feral, before something reasserted itself on his gaze and he let go of himself to reach forward with his clean hand and gently touch first Dwalin, then Thorin. He caressed them softly before wobbling to his feet and padding over to their supplies and taking up a washcloth and dampening it to wipe them down. He did so with infinite care and tenderness, praising them, reassuring them, telling them how good they'd been and how much he'd enjoyed it. 

 

Dwalin and Thorin, cuddled together, stretched into his love like sunflowers in warm sunshine, strangely sluggish and unwilling to do much unless directly ordered. They began reaching up eventually to touch him and each other in return, and Bilbo left again to retrieve some leftovers and clean sleeping clothes. He fed them first, choice morsels of their favorite bits from dinner, and then helped them struggle up and into their sleeping clothes before having a quick snack himself and returning to pile on.

 

They accepted him into the snuggles immediately, pulling him between them. 

 

“What did you think, Dwalin?” Bilbo finally asked. “I'm certain I know, but Thorin will need to hear it himself, and I don't think he can ask yet.” Thorin tensed. Dwalin understood; he was still feeling reluctant to speak himself. But for Thorin and Bilbo, he'd do it. He nodded, making his mouth form words.

 

“Liked it,” he managed. “A lot.” He tightened his hold on Thorin, burying his face in Bilbo's back, and hoped it was enough. Bilbo laughed, and Thorin made a noise that was almost a chuckle. 

  
“Good,” Bilbo replied, humor evident in his tone, and love, and approval. Dwalin and Thorin curled up closer to him as he situated himself to touch assure them both, and all three drifted off, content with their place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Starting 2016 right with a butt ton of smut. (He he.) Enjoy! I hope its decent-its my first smut piece. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Drunk me says it's time to post this so I am, yes! Enjoy!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr! https:// www.tumblr.com/ blog /kettish
> 
> Liked this or my other fics? [](https://ko-fi.com/A2121AK)


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